


lost and found

by mjonesing (klassmartin)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, fluff and not one shred of angst you’re welcome, yes you read that correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 17:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/pseuds/mjonesing
Summary: She’s packing away her laptop after her final class of the day and the new photography teacher is suddenly here. Again.He leans too heavily on the door handle, his hand slipping off and taking his upper body with him. The way he blushes as he rights himself is almost cute, scratching the back of his neck as he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh! Uh, hello, Ms. Jones.”“Mr. Parker,” she says in amusement, leaning her hip against the desk and crossing her arms. “Are you lost again?”—————Or: Talking to the cute art teacher across the hall should be a piece of (birthday) cake, right? However...
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	lost and found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tvfanatic97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvfanatic97/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY T! 💚
> 
> Based off the dailyau prompt:  
> “I’ve walked into your classroom four times by mistake can you please help me learn my way around this stupid school” AU

For five years, Michelle Jones has had The Perfect Classroom™.

It’s in the very back of the building; the apparent runt of the department, the one that the secretary had failed to hide his amusement about when he had handed over her welcome pack and room assignment on her first day last year. The fluorescent lights flicker no matter how many times she calls maintenance, and there’s a horrible draft from the stockroom - don’t even get her started on the crack in the floor that she trips over at least three times a week.

But Michelle is nothing if not adaptable.

So she buys a fancy space heater with her first Big Girl paycheck, and she works the abundance of natural light she gets through the large windows into all of her lesson plans, and there’s a secondhand rug she’s got her eye on in an online auction that will look even better with a few inevitable paint splatters and charcoal stains decorating it.

The main thing she likes about it is the peace. Not a lot of people are passing through there unless they’re actively seeking her or her class out, and they don’t tend to linger about in the hall. Her students know she likes it this way, and in return for their cooperation, she lets them pick the music from the speakers she sweet talked the cute blonde from the tech department into upgrading for her - as long as they follow the strict No-No list of musicians that she can’t bear to have scraping at the inside of her skull.

All of this should mean that it’s impossible to stumble in here accidentally even just once, nevermind a whopping four separate occurrences.

But she’s packing away her laptop after her final class of the day and the new photography teacher is suddenly here. _Again_.

He leans too heavily on the door handle, his hand slipping off and taking his upper body with him. The way he blushes as he rights himself is almost cute, scratching the back of his neck as he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh! Uh, hello, Ms. Jones.” 

“Mr. Parker,” she says in amusement, leaning her hip against the desk and crossing her arms. “Are you lost again?”

“Yup. That’s me. Lost… Again.” Mr. Parker - Peter to his friends, but are they there yet? - tugs at the hem of his woolen cardigan, the embodiment of nerves. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Her lips twitch, but whether he notices through the intense staring match he seems to be having with her leather boots is unclear. “Yourself?”

“Good, yeah. I’m doing… Well. Super good over here...” He smiles, self-deprecating and embarrassed and the same as the way he’d looked at her a few weeks ago, the first time he’d walked into her classroom.

It was just after lunch and her AP class were settling down in front of their easels, the late summer sun warm through the ancient glass windows. He had his nose buried in his bookbag, a school map slightly crumpled in his right hand, and she’d cleared her throat to catch his attention.

“Can I help you, Mr…?”

“Parker. Mr. Parker - Peter, actually.” He’d glances around at the curious students, the stacked paint pots, the rows of brushes and snapped charcoal in neat little containers, the collection of her own mindless sketches pinned to the walls. “This uh… This isn’t 123.”

“Nope.” She’d barely managed to suppress her smile. “This is 128. You’re out by a few.”

“Sorry, Ms. -”

“Jones.”

“Ms. Jones. Like the song or…?” He’d shaken his head and chewed on his bottom lip. “Nevermind. My apologies for the intrusion. I’ll let you get back to your class.”

He’d smiled and backed out of the room, and that had been the end of that; except -

“Oh! Hello, Ms. Jones,” he’d said two days later, thumb tapping against the red paint stain on the wood.

“Mr. Parker.” She’d spun around in her chair, eyebrow arched. “What can I do for you?”

“I - I wanted to - I’m just… Lost. Any chance you can direct me to the principal’s office?”

She’d glanced at the map still peaking out from his bag and said, “Sure, I’m heading that way anyway.”

The conversation had been nice, lacking in any stiltedness or awkward pauses; something she usually only manages with her students or those closest to her; so much so that when he came knocking a third time, his lack of any reasonable excuse didn’t make itself apparent until several minutes of polite conversation had passed.

He’s decently funny, laughing shamelessly at his own jokes. He has a dorky streak that tends to shine in the midst of run-on sentences about a whole collection of random and admittedly fascinating topics. The students seem to like him too; they like his teaching style and he is definitely preferable to the previous photography teacher, who’s only opinion on his subject was that no one could do better than him, so why bother trying to teach.

“Are you finishing up for the day?” 

Peter’s stuttered words bring her back to the moment, his too-shiny shoes squeaking against the linoleum. She hums against the comment her mouth wants to make about wearing them in before spending a full day standing up in them. “Yeah, sure am.”

“Awesome.”

The silence stretches before them, Peter’s jaw clenching, inhales hitching as he struggles with his words. She clears her throat. “We had to cancel my club so -”

“Do you think that -” They both laugh weakly, and Michelle nods her head towards him to encourage him to go first. He steps a little closer, and is that a tremble in his fingertips? “I was wondering if, maybe - since I keep getting ‘lost’ and all - you would help me find my way around? And then -” He swallows thickly as his fingers tangle together. “-Then maybe you could show me somewhere else. Like a nice restaurant. We could try out the menu, uh, together?”

Her cheek twitches upwards. “Are you trying to ask me out?”

“You were still able to figure that out from the horrible mess that just spilled out of my mouth? I swear I’m usually more eloquent -”

“Yes.”

He almost bites his tongue in how quickly he stops talking. “Yes? Did you say yes? To what?”

She shrugs her shoulder, more to attempt shaking off the intense fluttering in her torso than to convey any kind of indifference. “Sure. I’ll go out with you.”

“Really?” His eyebrows hit new heights previously unknown to man. “W… Why?”

“Are you asking me why I agreed or why I would want to?”

“I don’t know.” The lopsided angle to his smile is unfairly adorable. “Can we just pretend I didn’t say it?”

“Asking me out or asking why?”

He struggles with his words again, but she relaxes her expression and he begins to laugh. “You’re messing with me.”

She purses her lips, holding up two fingers pressed together. “Little bit.”

“It’s funny. You’re funny.” His smile softens. “I really like that.”

Oh, hell. He’s a corny one, huh?

She edges a little closer to him, her fluttering subsiding into a feeling that is decidedly more flirty than should be appropriate for the middle of a high school. “Feel like I’m going to regret this decision.”

“Maybe.” He leans towards her, eyes flickering down to her mouth. “But we could have fun finding out?”

**Author's Note:**

> @mjonesing on Tumblr as always


End file.
